


The Angry Spider

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [40]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Marriage, explicit language and sexual scene, mention of rape, past experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Malcolm's pre Christmas book launch, an important evening. Sam is introduced to his new book editor.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angry Spider

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from Petersgal, who just lately has singlehandedly kept me going on the Malcolm front......and for that a huge thank you!!   
> "Prompt...the big christmas party for malcolms new book launch is on and he and sam are having a great time but then sam sees malcolm with the books editor and she starts to feel uncomfortable..its all yours my friend.."
> 
> Just a warning here, the subject of rape is discussed. (It is not described or graphic). This isn't something I do lightly or flippantly, but please be aware, I hope I've covered the subject with a degree of truth, and I by no means wish to offend anyone. But it is something that happens, and something which is a very real issue. 
> 
> Of course The Angry Spider is a direct link to season three, TTOI when Malcolm is talking to Pat.  
> When better to write a children's book when you have three youngsters to test it out on?!!
> 
> Much has been said about that particular scene recently. When Peter was in Australia and NZ he said in an interview, that Pat was probably his old AA buddy, and that he was fighting, or had fought addictions. For me that doesn't make it canon. It's just Peter's supposition as much as anyone else's, even though he played the character. It was never written. So I'm kinda only half taking it on board. I'd never written Malcolm as much of a drinker anyway, but for control reasons rather than because I saw him as a recovering alcoholic.   
> The wonderful thing about Malcolm is we know so little of his background. So in fiction any AU is possible, and none can really be wrong. So I'm sticking with that, not a huge drinker, likes a drop now and again, but stays sober at functions etc when he needs to be on his top game.   
> If he's going to get drunk, it'll probably be with Jamie!!!

THE ANGRY SPIDER.

 

Sam cradled a glass of wine in both hands as she circulated. As Malcolm's wife it was her duty to attend these functions, but she would do it anyway, to support her husband. The man of whom she was, justifiably, extremely proud.   
As book launches went, this was a big one.   
The success of his memoirs, followed up by the Literary Prize winning political thriller, (for Best First Novel), assured his star was in the ascendancy.   
This new work was a scion of a different genre entirely. Out just in time for Christmas.   
A children's book. The Angry Spider.   
Odd really, because it had always been a standing joke. Now he was a father of three, it seemed somehow appropriate.   
Pat, his agent had suggested it many moons ago, back in the days when Malcolm faced a bleak and desolate future.   
Newly unemployed, feeling pretty fucking wrecked, and at the time, not able to see a way back.  
Sam was just his PA then, a person he admired from afar, a woman he never dreamed could one day be his......no! that was wrong, he was hers, wholly and completely.   
She could see him now, from across the room.   
Somehow he always looked taller in a tux. Or maybe it was the cut of the fabric, or the fact it was black.   
So handsome. His hair a little longer these days. Softer. Younger.   
Malcolm's weight fluctuated very little, occasionally there was a little dad tum action going on, then suddenly it would drop off him and he'd look half starved, as he had when she'd first met him.   
Gaunt, pasty, tired, and permanently wired.   
That's how he'd been.   
It had been touch and go there for a while, after the Goolding Inquiry, it was hard for him to imagine any kind of worthwhile future. A long and difficult road. Trusting no one. A broken man.   
Seeing him now, as he mingled and pressed the flesh, seemingly relaxed, at ease with himself and the world, gave her a warm glow.   
Chatting animatedly to a journalist and his new editor, he almost stopped mid sentence as he spied her.   
His wife.   
The most beautiful woman in the room. Classic evening dress with a plunge back, make up just so, hair piled up and fastened with sparkly comb.....thingies!  
Slim, elegant, gorgeous. Malcolm never looked at anyone else. Never needed to. All he wanted was right there.   
The mother of his children, the object of his desires. The love of his life. 

She joined him, standing at his elbow.   
He moved his orange juice from one hand to the other, so as to slip an arm around her waist.   
"This is my wife, Sam." He was smiling, his eyes twinkling. "Sam, this is Marcus Danby, editor for the new book ."   
Something in the name gave Sam a jolt. She raised her eyes from his outstretched hand, to his face, almost with reluctance.  
"Pleased to meet you." Her response was curt. She did not smile.  
Malcolm was alert to her tone immediately. He looked at her, head tilted slightly, asking a silent question with his eyes.   
"Anyway!" He exclaimed extravagantly, clapping the man on the back, "I'll catch up with you later, I have to speak the illustrator and there is an old friend from way back that I must say hi to."  
The two men shook hands and Malcolm shepherded his wife away.   
"Nice to meet you Sam........you're quite the stunner." Danby remarked, and with a nod of his head he moved away. 

oOo

A feeling of nausea, swept over Samantha Tucker. Her face was flushed, and she felt dizzy.   
"Sam. What the fucks wrong? You're not okay." Malcolm's face was full of concern.  
"I think I need a breath of air." She gasped, and headed for the door.   
Her husband followed in her wake, a protective hand on the small of her back.   
Outside in the car park, she found a seat.   
"I'll be alright here for a few minutes.....you go back inside and do your 'being fabulous' stuff. I'll be fine. I'll just sit here and get some cool air. It was very hot in there!"   
"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you." His brow was furrowed, his hand over hers, fretting, looking intently into her pale face.   
"Honestly Malc. I'll be fine in a bit. Really. Don't fuss!"   
"Alright." He accepted with a sigh, "but I'll come back in a jiffy to check on you."   
He kissed her lightly and hurried back inside.  
Fuck these bloody social events, they were essential, but he just wanted to go home. 

oOo

Sucking in lungfuls of the cool night air, Sam did her best to recover herself. She shivered involuntarily.  
Marcus Danby!   
After all these years. He hadn't changed significantly. A few lines perhaps, too much tan for December, and overboard with the aftershave.   
She'd have known him anywhere. Did he remember her?   
At university she'd not been in his circle.   
One of the chosen ones.   
The people he selected to surround himself with. The 'cool' crowd, who smoked and drank and occasionally snorted coke. The group all the girls adored, a little bit bad, a little bit dangerous.   
Rich, privileged, public school, a bit of a toff, good looking, always got what he wanted. 

Sam closed her eyes. Breathed out. In an instant she was transported back. Fifteen years.   
Coming home from her waitress job at The White Lion.   
To the dingy little digs she shared with Jocelyn.   
Late at night.   
Finding her friend in the bathroom, sitting on the floor. Knees up to her chest. Crying.   
Two streaks of mascara down her face. Clothes awry, tights torn. 

Jocelyn had only been out with Marcus a few times, three or four at most.   
Sam never cared for him, she thought him cocky, arrogant. He made lewd comments. Pinched her backside once, and she'd rounded on him. Told him if he ever touched her again she'd rearrange his testicles.   
He'd held his hands up, backed off, made a patronising, 'ooooooo! get you' gesture. But had steered clear from then on.   
His approach to her flat mate had been different. Less 'in your face'.......more, 'I think you're wonderful/we should hang out'........she'd been completely sucked in. During one conversation Sam had told Joss that she wouldn't touch Danby with a barge pole, her friend laughed.  
"Oh, he's okay, once you get passed all that showing off, he's quite nice really." 

oOo

Kneeling on the floor beside her, cuddling her as she sobbed.   
"It's my fault." That was all she kept saying. Over and over. "It's my fault."   
It took Sam ages to get out of her what had actually happened. The pair had been out drinking, to a club.   
Gone home in a cab, she'd invited him in for a nightcap.   
There had been kissing, cuddling and a bit of fondling.....but then he got over zealous. It all got out of hand.   
Held her down on the sofa, said he knew this was what she really wanted, and he was going to be the one to give it to her.   
"Joss.....did you tell him no? Ask him to stop?"   
"Yes.....of course......I didn't want......" Then she'd wept again. "It's my fault."   
Sam was angry.   
She was angry then, and she was angry now. Fifteen years later.   
"If you told him no, it's rape Joss. No means no!" 

It was so surreal, looking back on it now, everything then seemed so black and white. No grey areas at all.   
She did all she could to persuade her friend to report him, but she refused.   
Put up barrier after barrier......reasons why she shouldn't. No one would believe her; it was her word against his; she'd been a bit drunk; it was her fault she'd let it go that far; he was rich, had powerful friends; she was ashamed of herself....it had happened because she'd led him on.   
She'd just have to take it on the chin.

So that was it.   
Nothing more was said. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and carried on.   
Except she didn't.....not really.   
From that day on, Joss changed. She went from being a bright, happy, confident person, to being quiet, withdrawn and solitary. Rarely going out, especially after dark, gradually her social life dwindled, other friends diminished, left her to it, her course work suffered, grades slipping, by the end of the academic year she dropped out.   
Moved away.   
She and Sam lost touch. A mutual heard she'd married, but it hadn't worked out. The two never saw each other again. 

oOo

 

The moon peeped out from behind a cloud, Sam gave a huff of exasperation.   
She had to tell Malcolm. There were no secrets between them. None at all.   
What would he say? How would he react?   
The book was already in the shops, ready to go on sale in the lead up to Christmas. The deal was struck.  
There would be no pulling out, not at this late stage. Her husband would be upset, Sam knew it.   
She looked up, to see him coming towards her.   
Somehow she had to make the best of it, get through the evening. A few more hours, and it would be over.   
Malcolm came to her side.  
"Feeling better darling?"   
"Yes! Fine thanks. Let's go back inside." Sam allowed herself to be lead by the hand. 

oOo

"Holy fuck!" Malcolm almost lost it.   
Curled in bed together later that night Sam told her husband the whole story.   
"I don't know what to say! Fuck! And to think that cunt is representing me! What the fuck can I do?"  
"There isn't anything you can do Malcolm. It was fifteen years ago, I haven't seen Joss since she moved away. The book is a done deal. Printed and in the shops, there's not a thing you can do about taking your business elsewhere. Anyway, it's not the firm itself, it's just him."   
"No wonder you needed air. I knew something was wrong as soon as you answered him. I could see the colour drain out of your face. For fucks sake! Perma-tanned, ponce!"   
It took Malcolm a while to calm down.   
Eventually they settled down together. Malcolm let out a frustrated sigh.   
"Can I be little spoon tonight, you be big spoon?"   
Sam chuckled. Sometimes he was so disarming, he took her by surprise.   
"Course!" She snuggled herself into the curve of his bony back, placing an arm around his middle. He bent his knees up, tucking one hand between them, the other resting over hers.   
"I fucking hate things like this Sam, that shite hound has got away with ruining your friends life. Whilst he's gone up and up, on Daddies money.....made himself the big publishing hotshot. Now I'm fucking stuck with the little bastard."   
Sam ran her hand soothingly along the muscle of his wiry forearm, feeling the vein there.   
"Think about it in the morning." She cooed.   
Her lips touching between his shoulder blades gently.   
"You looked so handsome tonight, in your tux! I looked across at you and I thought 'mmm!' That's my man! Just look at him, the sexy bugger!"   
Malcolm pulled her arm up and turned over to face her.   
"Is that what you were thinking? About me?" He looked doubtful.  
"Mmm hm!" She kissed the end of his nose.   
"Well in that case......." She let out a shriek and a burst of giggles as he assailed her with hands and mouth, turning her onto her back, nipping and kissing, tickling and stroking.   
"I'm your sexy bugger...." He growled.   
Hard as iron in an instant, not needing any further invitation. Finally pulling her over and on top of him.   
Begging her to sit astride him, take him, do what she liked with him, he was hers, all hers.   
"Oh, fuck! That feels amazing, you're so bloody wonderful. Oh Sam! Fuck! FUCK!" 

Afterwards, they lay side by side, catching their breath, staring up at the ceiling.   
"I'm ringing them in the morning Sam. I have no contract with them beyond The Angry Spider, no book deal. My next book....if there is a next book, will be published by someone else. I don't want to have to meet that arse wipe again socially, and I certainly don't want you to have to. I think it's the best I can do."  
"I love you Malcolm!" She whispered, and held him tight as they drifted off to sleep.


End file.
